


With Duty and Feeling

by saekhwa



Category: Hustle Cat
Genre: Character(s) of Color, Gen, Insomnia, Inspired by Poetry, Nightmares, Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12953769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/saekhwa
Summary: "Here sweet water spatters downAnd the path into the cleft is dark."—Hồ Xuân Hương





	With Duty and Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Poetry Fiction's July Comment Fic challenge](https://poetry-fiction.dreamwidth.org/tag/challenge:+july+comment+fic). 
> 
> I sort of imagine that Reese may have started college but didn't finish for obvs reasons. Either way, I played loose with the timeline, because I wanted to explore some of Graves' pre-canon justifications for why he went about things the way he did.

Graves woke with a gasp. He clawed at the thing tangled around his legs, distantly aware it was only the sheets but not fully cognizant to stop until he'd wrenched himself out of bed. He landed on his side, and it seemed fitting to roll onto his back and remain on the floor while his heart raced, sweat dotting his forehead, the cool air making it prickle. 

It was dark, of course, but there was enough ambient light from the windows that he could see he was alone. The lump on his bed was nothing more than his sheets. The long shadow in the corner was nothing more than a piece that he'd sculpted — twisted vines stretching toward the ceiling, his rings and collar chains dangling from the carefully-crafted leaves. 

And yet… 

He couldn't slow his pounding heart. Taking the breaths he needed only hurt, the air too raw against his sore throat. 

He wasn't aware of gripping it until his fingers spasmed and his pulse jumped from the pressure of his own fingers emulating Nacht's tight grasp. He dropped his hand and bolted to his feet, using the momentum to speed him toward the kitchen. The only light he afforded himself was the one above the stove. He further grounded himself with the firm, decisive click it made and turned on the coffee maker with similar results. 

_"I'm not gonna fight ya."_

As if Nacht were still standing beside him. It was only the vestiges of his dream. And a memory. It clung like the sweat to his skin, the breath that still shook in his chest. He closed his eyes, gripping the counter so tightly that he finally had a reason for why his pulse jumped. 

Listening to the coffee maker — to the predictable, well-crafted design of it — helped draw him fully into consciousness. The stinging sip from that first cup allowed him to drop his shoulders and exhale an easy sigh. 

That was almost immediately dashed by an unexpected pressure around his ankles. 

He was halfway atop the counter before he glanced down to see that it was merely his dear Dracula twining around his leg. 

"I'm all right," he assured her. 

She meowed. Hardly necessary to call his bluff, but as he softly chuckled in the face of it, he thought, perhaps, he had needed the slight chastisement. 

"You're right, of course," he murmured, and crouched to stroke her ears.

When she butted her head against his palm, he scooped her up with another soft chuckle and pressed his cheek to hers, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"It was only a bad dream," he whispered. Both a lie and a truth. 

~*~

"Man, you look like shit."

Graves offered Wei a weak smile that probably didn't help his case. "As charming as ever," he said, stepping inside. 

"Still not sleeping, huh?"

"I'm sleeping quite well actually. Just last night, I managed two consecutive hours."

Wei snorted with a pointed, "Uh-huh," and brushed past Graves, leading him into the living room, where Indira already had a pot of tea, cups, and a lovely plate of pastries. 

Graves pressed a hand to his chest, sighing as he took in the arrangement. "You are far too kind, Indira. Unlike some." He glanced at Wei, so it was clear to whom he was referring. 

Wei, of course, remained oblivious as he dropped onto the couch next to Indira, having nearly devoured one pastry and already reaching for a second. 

"So what's going on? What's up?" Wei asked. 

It was easy to fall into the pattern as Graves took his seat, easy to say, "Not much," only to pause and reconsider. "Well…" He took a moment to breathe in the sweet aroma of the dark tea before he sipped it, humming with appreciation. "I've found a quaint storefront."

Indira arched an eyebrow, glancing at Wei, who blinked.

Graves frowned on principle. "I was considering…" He paused again, more for effect than to gather his thoughts. "Transforming it into a sanctuary for stray cats."

"Uhhhh," Wei said, as elegant as ever. 

Indira lowered her mug, scrutinizing Graves for several seconds. When she blinked, he was prepared for her to express disapproval, but she merely sipped her tea. "You've already purchased the building, haven't you." No lilt of a question, because she knew him rather well. 

Graves simply smiled. 

"Christ, Graves," Wei muttered, covering his face. "Seriously?" He dropped both hands to stare. " _Seriously_?"

"Your confidence is overwhelming," Graves said, tone dry. "Truly."

Wei leaned forward, clearly about to launch into a lecture, but Indira's hand on his knee stalled him. 

"Did you at least have a lawyer review the lease?" she asked.

"Of course." Graves almost rolled his eyes but instead chose the higher road and sipped his tea. It was so delicious that he was certain they'd had it shipped in. From Indira's family, no doubt. "I'm not completely naïve."

"God, Graves, why couldn't you rebound like a normal person?" Wei groaned.

Graves barely formed the N before he was coughing. Despite his tight grip on the handle, the mug clattered dangerously on the saucer. He sipped and sipped, but the curse was too fierce, twisting in his throat and escaping the soothing warmth of the tea. 

He raised a hand when Indira rose from the couch. 

"I'm all right," he rasped. His vision blurred, but he could still see Wei's grimace. 

"Shit, Graves. I'm sorry."

"It's—" Graves attempted, yet again, to clear his throat, coughing into his fist. It was useless and ineffectual but remained his only course of action. "Quite all right," he assured, throat still abraded, the sound of his voice as rough as Nacht's whisper. 

Eyes squeezed shut against that particular memory, he drank his tea, finishing it down to the last drop as if it would make this entire scenario more palatable. His throat still hurt when he set down both saucer and mug, forcing himself to smile in the face of Wei's and Indira's concern. 

"As you can see, I'm still… adjusting."

~*~

_"Graves."_ Clang. _"Graves."_ Clang. _"Graves."_ A soft, chiding lilt punctuated with the bat ricocheting off the wall. 

_Leave me alone_ , Graves attempted to say, but it caught in his throat. He choked and clawed his own neck until his hands were wet and he stood outside of himself, looking down on a bleeding mass of glistening bone. 

Each pulse of the rust extended its reach, the creep of it slow. Inevitable. It matched the bat's echo, the thunk of Nacht's heavy boots, each a well-timed countdown until there was nothing but silence. Graves returned to his body, back pressed up against a wall that hadn't been there seconds ago. 

As was the way of dreams, the thought that followed was simultaneously natural and absurd, stirring memories of the _Labyrinth_ and his fierce attraction to David Bowie when he'd emerged as the Goblin King. It quickly became clear why this particular thought had intruded on such a frightening moment. 

"You have no power over me," Graves said, throat suddenly whole despite his earlier maiming. 

Nacht laughed, rust spilling from his mouth and floating in the air while something farther down the tunnel clattered. 

"That's a classic," Nacht said. "You remember…?"

The rest was lost to the rushing sound of water, except it wasn't anything so refreshing. Graves drowned on his own blood, dying in a corner of an unfamiliar room while Nacht stole the breath from his lungs with a kiss. 

~*~

Though the days had blurred, today was a special occasion. Graves mustered what festive charm he could with grit in his eyes and his head throbbing. He poured himself another cup of coffee, frowning as he wondered whether this was his fifth cup. Perhaps sixth? 

He dislodged the question with a shake of his head and took two aspirin. 

Dracula's soft meow roused him from his stupor, and he glanced at his watch, eyes widening at how time seemed to have escaped him. He'd only just poured himself a cup. 

With no time to waste, he essentially chugged it, which was for the best because it had somehow become distastefully cold. He adjusted his collar chain, rolled back his shoulders, and tried on a smile. It was more marionette than person, so he rubbed his cheeks, opening and closing his mouth until the next smile felt more natural. 

Satisfied, he walked swiftly to the door just as Wei knocked. He and Indira, unsurprisingly, were already inspecting the alley as well as the front of the building — Graves had yet to hang any sort of signage. He had yet to even decide on a name. But there was time now. Time as well as distance once he officially moved.

The unexpected surprise that slowed his steps was spying the young man standing between his friends. It couldn't be… But surely it was. 

He opened the door with a flourish. "Thank you for coming all this way."

"Distance is nothing when I've got this," Wei laughed, twirling a marker before pocketing it. 

Wei's skill was indeed a marvel. 

With a smile, Graves said, "Welcome," and opened the door wide, gesturing for them to come in. "To my humble café."

"Wow, man, this is…" Wei made a broad gesture as he walked past Graves, spinning in a slow circle to take it all in. 

With hints of a promising start, Graves turned to see how Indira might feel. She subtly nudged Reese with her elbow, and the young man snapped upright, extending a hand. 

"You remember our son Reese," she said. 

"Of course," Graves said, accepting his hand, marveling at his firm grip. No doubt taught well by his parents. "Though I remember you being much, much smaller. I imagine it's more apt to say that you don't remember me," he continued, entirely charmed by the way Reese ducked his head as if that might hide the blush visible on his cheeks, the same sun-kissed brown as his mother's. 

"My parents have talked about you," Reese said. 

Graves hummed, nodding, though he couldn't help but wonder how much they'd shared. What they may or may not have revealed. Was Reese even a witch? 

"All good things, I hope," he said, and shut the door. "Please, allow me to give you all a tour."

As he guided them through the café, starting with the basement, where he endured Wei's friendly teasing upon spying the skeleton, he shared his plans for each space. How he might further decorate beyond the few sculptures he'd scattered about. 

As they exited the kitchen, Wei asked, "So when did you learn how to cook?"

Graves didn't miss the look Wei flicked in Indira's direction. She had the better poker face, by far, as she awaited Graves' answer. 

"I've become quite decent actually," Graves answered, and moved them toward the stairs. 

Once they reached the top, Indira gestured at the display case. "That will be nice."

Graves nodded, leaning against it, already imagining all the delightful treats that would fill it and entice his patrons. "And I'll have additional chairs and tables, of course."

"So do you have…" Wei glanced around, gesturing while he struggled to find the word or phrasing that he desired. "A deal with a local bakery or something?"

Graves shook his head. "Although…" He pondered the suggestion a moment but nodded. "That is a good idea."

He suppressed a smile as he watched Wei, shifting from looking terribly aggrieved to looking resigned by Graves' first forays into business. 

"These are details we can discuss later," Graves assured. "I have one more thing to show you."

He led them upstairs to his living space, which proved a fitting end to a long tour, though it was as bare as the rest of the café. He'd procured chairs and a table for his guests at the least and served snacks and drinks in order to be as gracious a host as they'd been to him. Reese, sweet but no doubt bored by the adults, took his plate downstairs, a notebook tucked under his arms as he murmured something about work to do.

"So," Graves said, looking between Wei and Indira, "what do you think?"

" _Well_ ," Wei started, and grinned. "It's definitely got the Graves' Aesthetic."

"Trademarked," Indira added, smile small as she sipped her tea. 

There was a second's pause in which they stared at each other, and then they all burst into laughter. Graves' cheeks ached, and he stared fondly at his friends, pleased they'd traveled this far to see what he'd done, what he hoped would be a solid next step toward a brighter future. 

"It will be nice," Indira said, expression turning more serious when she looked at Graves. "Once you have finalized the important details."

Graves nodded, heart fluttering, feeling almost shy with their compliment. It was silly, of course, but… having their approval, however reluctant, was gratifying. 

While Wei and Indira offered their own guidance and tips for running a successful business, they primarily spent the remainder of the afternoon as friends, sharing their plans for the rest of the weekend, recalling old memories and jokes. Graves could see the careful way they avoided mentioning Nacht, though he'd surely been there, through many of their adventures. But Wei and Indira navigated around him with such ease that Graves could almost forget the restraints that bound him. 

~*~

Swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat, Graves unfurled his fingers to reveal the treat at the center of his palm. Antoine inched forward, as suspicious as ever. It had taken Graves weeks to coax him from his various hiding spots. Partially because Graves had dared not risk transforming into a cat himself. He hadn't known all the boundaries of the curse and had chosen not to risk… more severe consequences. His nightmares had certainly supplied him with increasingly gruesome scenarios. 

While Graves was lost in the memory of their first meeting, Antoine pounced, snatching the treat from Graves' hand. Graves kindly offered another. 

"I… won't be here for very long," he confessed. 

Antoine tilted his head, slinking forward again. 

"I'm moving."

Graves briefly closed his eyes, exhaling a quiet breath at having voiced the confession. He'd not said it aloud despite spending a month on the endeavor. It almost didn't seem real. 

He opened his eyes at Antoine's pointed mrowr and softly laughed, setting another treat upon the ground. "I can still find you a good home. Before I go."

Antoine snorted and ate the treat. 

"It would not be a prison," Graves said, shaking his head. "You'd be able to maintain that fierce independence of yours _and_ have treats. But… I understand. Change is difficult when you're as set in your ways as we are, hm?"

Antoine meowed, and Graves couldn't help but chuckle as he nodded. His eyes widened when Antoine pressed his head against Graves' arm. Graves remained still but… He hadn't expected their last meeting to end like this and smiled when Antoine used him as a prop to pet himself before climbing into Graves' lap and butting his chest. 

"I will miss you dearly, old friend," he whispered as he hugged Antoine. 

"Well would ya look at that."

Graves wasn't certain whether the ringing in his ears was real or whether it had been the bat striking the alley wall. He remained frozen, breath quickening, eyes gone much too wide. He couldn't turn around. He'd made the mistake too often in his dreams to allow it now. He simply had to stand and step forward. Then do it again and again until he reached… Where? The street. There would be witnesses, and Nacht wasn't so crazed that he'd risk revealing himself to the general population. 

Trapped by his own thoughts, Graves was oblivious to Antoine's hissing until Antoine's teeth sank into the meat of his thumb. He realized immediately it had been his own fault. His grip had tightened around the poor thing, and to save himself from being crushed, Antoine had bitten him. 

"Forgive me," Graves murmured, and hissed in a breath when Antoine leapt from his arms, leaving four bright furrows in his skin. The sting of them solidified what Graves had already known: this wasn't a dream. 

"Lost your buddy?" Nacht asked, still behind Graves but closer now. "You want me to—"

"No!"

Graves whirled around. As he'd feared, Nacht was within arm's reach and if the bat touched the ground, then Antoine— Graves grabbed the bat. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, unable to jerk free. It had been a foolish, stupid, _idiotic_ — But Antoine was safe. He had to be safe. 

The rust sank so impossibly deep into Graves' skin, chilling him to the bone and using his veins to gain purchase and crawl through the rest of his body. 

"Eh, it's not him I want anyway," Nacht said with a shrug, as if he hadn't noticed Graves' predicament. 

Graves flinched when Nacht stepped closer. Nacht took his bleeding hand, lifting it up to the light. The warm, wet slide of his tongue across Graves' wounds made him shudder. 

_Nacht, please_ , he intended to say, but it caught in his throat. He coughed, hunching forward, facing the increasingly dire consequences of his continued lapse in concentration and judgment. The rust proceeded its inexorable climb toward his chest. 

He flinched again when Nacht's hand rested heavy on his back. He expected… But there wasn't the cool crawl of rust. There was only the smooth slide of Nacht's palm and then the heavy weight of it resting at the base of his spine. 

"Forgot again, didn't ya?" Nacht chuckled. "Miss hearin' ya say my name but… Gotta admit this is still a lotta fun, huh? You figure out the rest of it yet?"

"No," Graves gasped. 

"Don't worry. You will. Got all the time in the world."

" _No_ ," Graves whispered. 

It didn't stop Nacht. It hadn't the first time and couldn't now as Nacht's fist curled in his shirt. His touch alone hastened the rust. Graves attempted to slow it, to stop it, to thwart it, but he had no magic. It was in Nacht's hands now, and all Graves could do was fall to his knees, sweating, panting, but refusing to debase himself any further. He'd dueled witches much more powerful than this. He ignored the implications of such a thought.

"What do you _want_?" he demanded instead, glaring up at Nacht. 

"Tch," Nacht said, and never answered. Only slid his hand up to cup Graves' cheek, to sweep his thumb across Graves' lips as the rust, at last, overwhelmed him. 

~*~

Better to have been a nightmare, Graves thought when he opened his eyes, the crick in his neck a terrible, fierce thing. He set a hand on the grimy wall, using it to rise shakily to his feet as he glanced left and then right and back again. Nothing stirred. Most of it was rusted anyway. 

He looked at his hand, stared down at his shirt, and it… Graves was whole. He fell heavily against the wall, breath leaving him in a rush as he squeezed his eyes shut, trembling. Nacht had found him and had cursed him and had left him and—

Graves covered his mouth with the back of his hand, convulsively swallowing around the questions that remained unanswered. He opened his eyes and flexed his fingers, the bite marks gone, even the scratches. 

Blowing out a breath, he attempted to roll his neck, but the twinge halted all motion. Despite this, he searched for Antoine, spending an hour wandering around, grateful that his useless, siren call didn't uncover him. 

~*~

_"You were right," Nacht said, eyes wide and wild and bright. "This is a hell of a lot better than paper."_

Graves narrowly saved himself from tumbling off the couch when his leg spasmed. He kicked the table but hardly felt it as he exhaled a harsh breath, looking around—

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Wei said, raising his hands at the same time that Indira promised, "It is all right, Graves."

Graves slid a hand down his face to muffle his bitter laugh, but it lodged in his throat, and he thought, perhaps, that joy had been another thing Nacht had stolen by cursing him. 

"Looks like you needed it. The rest, I mean," Wei said. 

Graves swallowed and nodded, slowly lowering his hand. "It… appears so."

He stared at them. They stared back. They hadn't asked any questions when Graves had appeared at their door. His lips parted now, to make his confession that Nacht had found him again. It seemed he'd always be found. Would moving across the country be enough? Were there wards that Wei would be willing to… 

Graves cleared his throat. "I am, as ever, grateful for your hospitality."

They fell silent again, and when Graves could no longer bear the weight of their worried gazes, he stood. 

"You know you can crash here, right? We've got a spare room. I could even…" Wei wriggled his fingers, a motion that Graves had always associated with the piano, though Wei swore he had no affinity for instruments of any kind. 

No, the gesture was Wei's nonverbal means of communicating magic, and Graves leaned forward, drawn by the promise of it. It would be small and simple, as gentle as a breeze, yet…

He straightened and shook his head. "I should go." He glanced at his watch, frowning at how time continued to far outpace his every effort to wrangle it. "And you had mentioned today is one of the rare occasions you'll see Reese for dinner. I would hate to intrude."

"Well, yeah, but—" Wei shrugged. "He's at that age, you know? You can stay for dinner."

Graves didn't understand what he was supposed to know. He was unfamiliar with the quirks of Reese's particular generation. 

It was Indira, who'd risen from her chair to set a hand on Graves' shoulder and squeeze it, that convinced him. "You would not be intruding. Please. Stay."

"I—" Graves' throat tightened again, but he nodded. "I suppose I dare not refuse such a kind invitation." He attempted a smile and held it despite how brittle it felt. "May I use your facilities?"

Wei rolled his eyes but jabbed his thumb in the direction of the hall. "Like you have to ask. You know where the bathroom is."

"It could have moved," Graves teased, and Wei's laughter warmed the chill that clung to Graves' spine. 

~*~

When Graves jerked awake for the fourth time, it was clear that sleeping was a hopeless endeavor. So he dragged himself from bed and walked quietly toward the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. 

He smiled upon seeing light stretching down the hall from Wei's office. He was ever the studious designer, dedicated to a business that had flourished with him and Indira at the helm. Relieved to have some company at this late hour, Graves gently pushed the door open, about to announce his presence, only to freeze at the sight of Reese seated at Wei's desk, hunched over several open books. 

Driven by curiosity, Graves quietly approached, leaning over Reese's shoulder, hardly an effort when the boy was so small, and peered at the page—

"What—"

He attempted to clear his throat, but it was too late. Reese jumped, whirling around, staring at Graves with wide, frightened eyes. 

"Forgive me," he said, more gently, offering Reese what he hoped was a soothing smile while he tried to calm his own racing heart. "Why are you awake at this hour?"

"You scared me half to death! You can't just—" Reese heaved in a breath, shaking out his hands as he slumped in his chair only to snap upright again. "I'm— It's nothing. Just— You know—" He shrugged without completing a single thought. "I mean…" He swiveled in the chair, glancing at the sketchbook. 

Graves swallowed, clutching his own throat, where Nacht's curse grated as if anticipating what he might say. "These are your father's designs, aren't they?"

Reese slapped a hand down on the page, but Graves set his own hand upon it to stop him from destroying it. "I'm— It's just practice," Reese whispered, gaze flicking toward the door. 

Graves followed it, tilting his head, but didn't hear Wei or Indira stirring. He stepped around Reese's chair, moving closer to the desk, and tapped the page. "May I?"

"Wha—" Reese stared at him wide-eyed, shaking again. 

"I'm—" Graves faltered when he glanced at the page. "An artist myself." He looked at Reese, watching as Reese incrementally relaxed with this shared experience. "A sculptor, actually, but it seems we're a veritable group of artists."

Reese hunched over the notebook again, his palm smudging the lines he'd so carefully traced. 

"I understand if you'd rather keep it private. I felt the same at your age."

"It's—" Reese rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't laugh, okay? I'm— This is just practice."

"Of course," Graves said, nodding. 

Reese shoved the notebook toward him, and Graves treated it with care as he turned page after page, half the book filled with Wei's concepts, designs, and sketches. He froze when he finally reached Reese's work, evident because it was simple, no more than geometric shapes stacked atop each other to indicate the bodice and skirt or what Graves supposed could be a pair of pants. Reese had attempted shading, but it added no depth to his novice renderings. 

Reese was attending college, wasn't he? Surely his classes had given him more skill than this…

"Look, I know it-it's not the best," Reese said, moving to snatch the notebook away. 

Graves swallowed and willingly relinquished it. "It's—" He winced at how his voice rasped and clutched his throat again. "As you said, it's practice. We must be willing to take that first step or else accomplish nothing. Ah but"—His smile felt forced, but Reese seemed to warm to it, his shoulders dropping—"you'd be more familiar with 'imitation is the highest form of flattery.'"

Reese laughed, ducking his head to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah. I've heard it a few times." 

Graves hummed, his attention drawn to the sketchbooks again. "Do you have…" He frowned as he considered how he might phrase his question within the constraints of Nacht's curse. "Your father's talent in…" He employed Wei's signature gesture, motioning his fingers. 

Reese laughed. "Of course I'm a witch, too," he said, as if it might…

Graves simply nodded. 

"So what can you do anyway?" Reese asked. "Dad wouldn't tell me." 

The question was more of a wound than Graves had anticipated, his smile faltering as he stared down at Reese. "I—" 

Reese waited with a stunning amount of patience, but when Graves finally discovered a way to deflect the question, he smiled and glanced at the various books littering the table. 

"Am more interested in what you can do. Your father is a powerful witch, so I imagine you must be… "

Graves glanced at Reese, and the boy looked startled, as if… But then with a grin, he whipped around, flipping to a blank page, and drew… Graves wasn't entirely certain what it was supposed to be. A bear? One of those cartoon characters from a popular children's show? He only knew the slow, cold prickle across as his skin. He tightened his fingers around his throat, as if that might stop the panicked flutter of his own pulse, and watched the paper creature peel itself off the page only to crumble in seconds. 

~*~

As Wei helped move the last of the furniture into the café, Graves touched his elbow before he vanished. "Stay a moment? You and Indira?"

Wei glanced at his cell phone, frowning a moment, but nodded. "Let me…" He didn't finish speaking as he, most likely, concluded his text with Indira. 

Graves walked to the kitchen to heat water for tea as he pulled out the box of doughnuts he'd purchased for this. He ran through the conversation for the millionth time, anticipating how Indira and Wei might react, anticipating his own… discrepancies and how he might overcome them. 

When he returned, Indira walked through the portal Wei had created, mouth pursed in a frown of concern. To which, Wei shrugged. They both took notice of Graves at the same time, their shoulders dropping when he gestured for them to take their seats. 

"I'm not saying you owe me," Wei said, snagging a doughnut, "I'm just saying you owe me."

"I do," Graves confessed, as he poured them tea.

Indira smiled, arching an eyebrow, to which Graves nodded. "You spoil us," she said, voice soft and teasing. "You must be working up to asking for something else."

His laugh was well-timed, practiced, as he nodded. "You've caught me."

"Oh, man, what is it this time?" Wei asked, but then suddenly turned serious as he glanced around. "I mean, if it's wards. You know I'll do it. No questions asked."

Graves gripped his mug with both hands and sipped the tea, breathing in the steam, the relaxing aroma of cloves and cinnamon. "I thought I might help you this time," he said, slow and careful. 

Wei frowned, he and Indira sharing a look. "With what?" Wei asked. 

"Your son." Graves lowered the mug. "Reese. I…" He paused, tapping the side of his mug as if he needed to consider how he might phrase a request he'd refined over the course of weeks. "Will you allow me to mentor him?"

Wei blinked. "Um. Come again?"

"Well, I noticed him drawing and—"

Wei laughed. "Graves, come on. You can't draw for shit."

"No," Graves admitted, "but I do have an artist's eye." He gestured to the small statue resting atop his bookcase for now. Or at least until he found a more suitable place for it. "And you had said he's at that age…"

Wei nodded, either recalling the conversation or believing in Graves' bluff that it was a meaningful statement. 

"Wait." Wei grinned. "You're looking for cheap labor, aren't you?"

"First, I fully intend to compensate any staff that I might hire well above minimum wage. Second, your son has a…" He paused. "Talent in more than the arts that should be refined."

Wei snorted. "A mentor for _magic_? Reese doesn't need that. I've taught him everything I know." 

Graves nodded, letting a moment pass in solemn silence. "Yes, but perhaps," he softly said, "it's time he came out from under his father's shadow."

Left speechless, as Graves had hoped, Wei almost looked guilty as he lowered his head, staring hard at his lap. Indira had remained so quiet and still through this all that Graves couldn't help but glance in her direction. She was relaxed, ankles crossed and feet tucked against the couch, her gaze distant, staring at a point past Graves' shoulder. 

"You're serious?" Wei asked, looking up but quickly looking away again. "'Cause Reese is— I mean, you don't know a thing about kids, much less teenagers, Graves."

"I'll have you know that children love me," Graves said. 

Wei snorted. "Yeah. Around Halloween when you're all—" He moved his hand in an up-down motion. "You."

"Which only strengthens my point." Graves smiled but glanced at Indira again. 

Wei shrugged. "Mentoring Reese, huh?" He quirked a smile. "Okay. I guess I'm cool with it if…" He glanced at Indira. 

She remained silent, and Graves held his breath in preparation for her censure. 

She blinked, gaze sharp again as she focused on Graves, who attempted to remain steady beneath her unwavering eye contact. 

"It should be Reese's choice," she said. 

So relieved by the possibility, Graves immediately nodded. "Of course." 

~*~

Graves exhaled a slow breath and then picked up the quill. His hand trembled that even tightening his grip did not steady it. He inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. He could almost feel the magic at his fingertips, but it was… He was missing a core piece of himself, and it grated, the curse lodged in his throat. 

He closed his eyes, replaying the simple memory of Wei calling to inform him that Reese had agreed. _"We were kind of hoping he'd finish up college, but he's pretty excited about you teaching him."_

For Reese then, Graves set quill to tome…

His eyes immediately stung with relief when he smoothly transcribed the first word. Nacht had never appreciated the fine details, and Graves had never been more grateful for it. 

Once again, he considered whether he should somehow more fully communicate his plans to Wei and Indira. Why he'd offered to mentor Reese in the first place but… They loved their son and weren't capable of seeing what he might become. Had they even seen Nacht? He seemed to have kept his distance from everyone but Graves. 

Only Graves understood the threat, and that alone made this the better course. So he shook his head and focused on the spell that he needed to craft, how he might spare Reese from the corruption that had consumed Nacht. It wasn't a curse, though it had the elements of one. At its heart, Graves affirmed, it was a kindness. One that, in time, Reese would be grateful for.


End file.
